Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Solaris Date: Year 873 / Crow Cycle (3) / Bard's Day (9)

  Orin glanced down the corridor. This was his best chance to find Andromeda, but he could also feel it, faint yet suffocating: Varis’s presence outside. That meant time was against them. One wrong move, and he’d be dragging not just himself, but his friends—and even Andromeda—into danger.

  “Orin, are you listening?” Sirius’s voice cut through his thoughts.

  “Uh... yeah, of course,” he lied, shaking it off.

  “The problem is,” Cor said, frowning, “how do we get out of here without being noticed? We could try the back wall. It’s high, but if we all work together, we might pull it off.”

  Sirius peeked through the window toward the rear courtyard. The walls loomed like the sides of a fortress.

  “You want us to climb that?” he said, pointing.

  “I know it’s risky,” Cor replied, “but what choice do we have?”

  Orin had been silent until then, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the walls.

  “We leave through the front,” he said at last.

  Both turned to him, stunned.

  “The front?” Cor repeated. “That’s where Varis and his men are.”

  “Exactly,” Orin said, his tone steady. “I don’t have time to search this place top to bottom for the people hiding here… but I’m not leaving without a chance to protect them. If I can’t find them now, I’ll come back for them later—and when I do, I need them to still be alive.”

  “I’m not following,” Cor said, confusion creasing her brow.

  “What he means,” Sirius interrupted with a knowing grin, “is that we’re gonna draw Varis’s attention away from here. Right, Captain?”

  Orin nodded.

  “It’s dangerous, but if we move smart and coordinate with Altair and the others, we can pull it off. If we escape quietly, Varis will turn on this place the moment we’re gone. I won’t let that happen.”

  Cor exhaled, glancing at Sirius. She already knew that look in Orin’s eyes—once he made a decision, there was no changing it.

  “So what’s the plan?” she asked.

  Orin’s expression sharpened.

  “I’ll explain soon. For now, I need another bow. I saw one stored in a pantry earlier.”

  Sirius grinned. “All right, lead the way—Captain!”

  The three slipped through the dim corridors as the distant roar of battle bled through the walls. The house trembled faintly with each clash of steel, the air heavy with urgency. When they reached the pantry, Orin rummaged quickly until he found a bow and a small bundle of arrows.

  “Wait a minute! These are training arrows,” Cor said, picking one up. The tip was only carved wood, dull compared to the gleaming steel she was used to. “They might sting someone without armor, but they won’t do much against those knights out there.”

  Orin slung an old, dusty bow across his chest and smiled faintly.

  “Don’t worry. They’re exactly what I need.”

  Cor frowned. “If you say so…” she muttered, unconvinced.

  “I think there are enough here,” Orin said, taking the full quiver of practice arrows. “Cor, how many steel-tipped ones do you have left?”

  She checked her half-empty quiver. “Only seven.”

  “Good. Give me three of them.”

  Still unsure, Cor handed them over. Orin placed them carefully among the wooden ones.

  “Sirius,” Orin called, pointing toward a corner near some old cleaning supplies. “Bring me those two metal containers.”

  Sirius crouched down, grabbed both, and sniffed one curiously. “Smells like… fire accelerant. Probably for the fireplace.” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you want this for?”

  “I want us to soak the training arrows in it,” Orin said, the glint of a plan in his eyes. “We’ll take both containers with us. I’m counting on you, Sirius.”

  “What? Both of them?” Sirius groaned, exaggerating as usual. “When did I become the team’s pack mule?”

  “Cor and I will be firing. Besides…” Orin leaned close and whispered something quickly into his ear.

  Sirius blinked. “You really want me to do that?”

  “Of course,” Orin said firmly. “It’s the most important part.”

  Cor looked between them, visibly lost. “Are you two going to explain what this plan actually is?”

  “No time,” Orin replied. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  Once the arrows were soaked in the accelerant, Orin divided them between himself and Cor. Sirius took the containers, grumbling under his breath as they made their way back to the kitchen window. One by one, they climbed out—though Sirius, weighed down by the load, nearly tripped on the way.

  The cold air hit them instantly. The battlefield roared not far ahead, steel clashing with power-infused strikes that split the air with blinding light. Orin could feel Varis’s presence again, faint but oppressive—like a storm waiting to break.

  “Cor,” Orin said, his voice low but sharp, “once we’re in position, fire all the training arrows at the soldiers. Don’t worry if they don’t hit hard. It’s part of the setup.”

  Cor hesitated, then nodded. She didn’t need the full plan—if Orin said it mattered, that was enough.

  “Then let’s go,” Orin said, drawing his bow. “We move toward the front.”

  The three boys sprinted toward the front of the house, where the street had turned into pure chaos.

  Altair was clashing head-to-head with Varis, their weapons sparking in the dim light. Felis fought nearby, surrounded by knights whose blades gleamed with the glow of activated skills. Behind them, Aran moved with measured precision—offering support, amplifying strength with timed blessings, and mending wounds the moment they appeared.

  Felis was the first to notice the trio bursting into view.

  “What are you doing here!?” he shouted, dodging two simultaneous strikes. “Get out of here, now!”

  Varis turned at the commotion, his eyes narrowing.

  “So the boy with crimson eyes is still here,” he said coldly. “Fortune smiles on me today.”

  “I won’t let you touch him,” Altair shot back, driving his spear forward.

  Steel clashed, the impact ringing through the air as Varis caught the strike with a twist of his wrist.

  Though Altair and Felis were clearly trying to hold the knights back—to open a path for Orin and the others to escape—things didn’t go as anyone expected.

  Instead of retreating, Orin and Cor raised their bows and unleashed a flurry of arrows toward the Church’s knights.

  The rain of shafts startled the soldiers. They ducked behind shields and armor, until one of them noticed the arrows clattering harmlessly at their feet.

  “Don’t panic!” he barked. “They’re training arrows! Just wooden toys! They’re trying to rattle us—ignore those brats!”

  Altair’s jaw tightened. He could see Orin’s determination burning where logic should have prevailed. Keeping Varis at bay, he called out sharply,

  “Orin! Enough! Stop this nonsense and get out of here!”

  Even Aran, far behind, tried to reason with him.

  “Orin! The path’s clear! Take the others and go!”

  But Orin didn’t answer. He and Cor kept firing relentlessly, arrow after arrow slicing through the air. While Cor cast quick glances toward him, trying to understand what he was planning, Orin’s focus was absolute. Each shot wasn’t random—he was feeling the flow of energy through the bowstring, through the wood, through his fingers.

  Each release was practice. Preparation.

  He wasn’t just attacking—he was experimenting.

  He’d been trying to channel energy into his shots, the same way he channeled it through his blade. The sensation was different, but strangely intuitive. He could feel it coming together—the rhythm, the control, the balance between stillness and motion.

  The second phase of his plan was ready.

  A sudden, sharp scent hit the air.

  “Wait…” Varis paused, stepping back from Altair’s spear. “That smell… Fire accelerant?” His expression darkened. “No one use heat-based skills! The arrows—they’ve been soaked in it!”

  But his realization came too late.

  Orin and Cor had already emptied their quivers of training arrows, and the smell of the accelerant filled the battlefield.

  Orin turned toward Sirius and shouted,

  “Now!”

  Sirius grinned despite the chaos. He grabbed one of the metal containers, spun once to build momentum, and hurled it high into the air—its arc perfect—sending it crashing down right above the cluster of knights.

  Orin gripped his bow tightly and whispered,

  “ACTIVATE HUNTER SKILL: Speed Up 10%.”

  The world slowed around him.

  Even the chaos—the shouts, the flames, the clang of steel—faded to distant echoes.

  He could see the container spinning lazily through the air, suspended in time.

  And then, he moved.

  In a single burst, Orin dashed forward, leaving a streak of wind in his wake. He crossed the battlefield before anyone could react—not toward the open path Altair and Felis had carved for him, but straight toward the heart of danger, where Varis and his soldiers stood.

  Altair’s eyes widened.

  “Orin, come back! What are you doing!?”

  But Orin didn’t answer. His entire being was focused, his heartbeat syncing with the hum of the bowstring. He raised his weapon, eyes locked on the container tumbling above the enemy lines.

  “ACTIVATE HUNTER SKILL: Solar Arrow!”

  Light surged through the arrow, golden energy rippling along its shaft until it burned like a miniature sun. The shot flew true—piercing the container midair.

  For an instant, there was silence.

  Then the world erupted.

  A roaring explosion tore through the street, engulfing the soldiers in fire. Flaming liquid scattered across the cobblestones, and the wooden training arrows embedded in armor and shields ignited, spreading the inferno even further. Screams filled the street as chaos devoured the line of knights.

  Through the blazing wall, Orin caught a glimpse of Altair, Felis, and Aran frozen on the other side, their faces illuminated by firelight. Behind them, Sirius and Cor stood wide-eyed, realization dawning—this had been Orin’s true plan all along.

  He had severed Varis’s advance, protecting the house and his allies.

  But in doing so, he’d trapped himself on the wrong side of the flames.

  “A noble sacrifice,” Varis said, his voice echoing through the crackle of fire. He pointed his sword toward Orin. “You’ve ensured your friends’ escape by offering yourself. Brave, but foolish. In respect for your courage, I’ll let them go.”

  Orin said nothing. His eyes burned with defiance as he drew another arrow and leveled it at Varis.

  Varis chuckled, lowering his blade slightly.

  “You don’t honestly think that arrow could harm me, do you? Even if I let you hit me... you know I can’t die.”

  He sighed. “I expected more of you, boy. But I’ll make you a deal—tell me, did you see anyone inside that house? Answer honestly, and I’ll capture you without spilling a drop of your blood.”

  “There was no one inside,” Orin said evenly. “I searched every corner. The place was empty.”

  Varis studied him in silence, as if weighing the truth.

  “I see... so these houses must have hidden exits after all. In that case, the fugitives are already far from here.” He turned slightly, glancing back at his men. “I’ll return to headquarters and send search teams. We’ll find them eventually.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Orin said, his tone calm but firm. He drew the bow tighter, eyes narrowing.

  Varis grinned.

  “Then show me what you’ve got. Fire your best shot.” He raised his shield, unfazed.

  “ACTIVATE HUNTER SKILL: Solar Arrow!” Orin shouted again.

  Varis scoffed.

  “Didn’t we already learn how useless that is?”

  But Orin suddenly shifted his aim—his bow pointing not at Varis’s chest, but straight above him.

  Varis blinked in confusion.

  “What are you—?”

  Then he realized.

  A second container was in the air, its metal glinting in the light of the flames, right above him.